Woodland Realm, 2941 T.A.
Centuries came and went, and Mirkwood fell deeper into shadow. Dark creatures roamed freely, transforming the once-great forest into a perilous land. The bond between Thranduil and Legolas, strained by grief and guilt, had frayed over time. They communicated out of necessity, focusing on the defense of their realm and Legolas's relentless patrols. Their conversations were limited to matters of strategy and survival, leaving their personal wounds unspoken and festering.
Tauriel, who had grown up alongside Legolas, witnessed the profound changes in him. She knew something had broken inside him after the night his mother was taken, but neither Legolas nor Thranduil spoke of it. The fate of the Elvenqueen was a forbidden topic, her disappearance a painful enigma with no closure, no grave to mourn. Only a forgotten statue, overgrown by the wild forest, and her belongings, locked away in her unused chambers, remained as silent witnesses to her memory.
Life in Mirkwood continued, steeped in sorrow and shadow, until an extraordinary event disrupted the bleak status quo. A company of dwarves, accompanied by a hobbit, arrived, stirring the dormant courage within Thranduil and Legolas. The darkness that threatened Mirkwood was part of a larger shadow spreading across Middle-earth, and their isolation could no longer protect them.
Legolas resisted the call to action, preferring the safety of his grief-stricken world. But Tauriel's defiance of Thranduil and her decision to aid a dwarf compelled him to act. Fearful for her safety, he could not remain behind. Tauriel's rebellious spirit and her willingness to challenge the status quo resonated with the part of Legolas that still yearned for light and purpose.
Legolas had become fiercely protective of those he held dear after his mother's death. His outward demeanor was cold and prideful, mirroring his father's, but beneath the surface, he was driven by a deep-seated fear of losing anyone else. The pain and grief that had shaped him also kept him distant and guarded.
When Tauriel ran to save the dwarf, Legolas followed, driven by a mixture of duty and fear. His pursuit led him beyond the borders of Mirkwood, where he confronted the wider darkness threatening Middle-earth. The Battle of the Five Armies was a crucible that tested his resolve and forced him to face the shadows within and without.
In the heat of battle, Legolas fought with a determination born of centuries of sorrow and regret. He moved with lethal grace, his arrows striking true, his focus unyielding. But it was not just the fight that transformed him-it was the realization that isolation was no longer an option. The world was interconnected, and the fate of Mirkwood was tied to the fate of Middle-earth.
After the battle, a conversation long overdue took place between Thranduil and Legolas. The aftermath of the conflict, the sight of so much death and destruction, broke through the barriers of their silence. Thranduil, seeing his son not just as a warrior but as a young elf still burdened by guilt, finally spoke from the heart.
"Legolas," Thranduil began, his voice soft yet firm, "we have both carried the weight of her loss for too long. I see now that our silence has only deepened our pain."
Legolas, exhausted and battle-worn, looked at his father with a mixture of pain and sorrow. "Nîn ú-gortha," (It was my fault) he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Thranduil's eyes softened with regret. "Never, my son. I have only ever blamed myself for not protecting her, for not being there. We both lost her that night and in our grief, we lost each other too."
The admission brought a measure of healing, a tentative step toward mending their fractured relationship. The battle had shown them the importance of unity, of facing the darkness together rather than alone. It was a turning point, a chance for father and son to rebuild what had been broken.
Though Thranduil never blamed Legolas, Legolas could not escape the guilt that haunted him. He knew it was his actions that had led his mother to Dol Guldur, and ultimately, it was his arrow that had ended her suffering. This gulit was a burden he bore silently, a punishment he inflicted upon himself nightly through relentless nightmares. For Legolas, this was the price he had to pay for what he had done.
Unwilling to burden his father further and unable to remain in Mirkwood, Legolas decided to leave. His journey took him to places he never thought he would see, seeking solace and purpose beyond the borders of his homeland. Rivendell became a refuge, where the company of Elrond's children-Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen-offered moments of peace to his troubled heart. Yet, it was Aragorn, known as Strider, who truly saved him.
Following his father's advice, Legolas sought out Aragorn and joined the Rangers of the North, along with the twins. This new alliance gave him a renewed sense of purpose. Fighting against the encroaching darkness, he was no longer alone. He kept his pain and nightmares to himself, bearing his suffering in silence. Yet, among his friends, he found a measure of solace and began to forgive himself, if only a little.
As he traveled and fought alongside the Rangers, Legolas started to live his life not as a prince, but as a warrior. He knew he could never be the prince his mother had envisioned or the son his father had dreamed of. His destiny was to be a protector of Middle-earth, to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf it. This path, he believed, was the only way to make amends with himself.
Legolas threw himself into his new role with fervor. The skills he had honed in Mirkwood became invaluable assets in his battles against orcs, trolls, and other dark creatures. His archery, already legendary, reached new heights as he faced the relentless forces of evil. Each arrow he loosed was a testament to his unyielding resolve, each victory a step towards redemption.
Despite his inner turmoil, Legolas found moments of joy and camaraderie. The Rangers, bound by their shared purpose, became a second family to him. Aragorn, with his steadfast leadership and unwavering moral compass, was a guiding light. Under his influence, Legolas began to see beyond his guilt, understanding that his actions now could shape a better future for all.
In the quiet moments between battles, Legolas would reflect on his journey. He remembered the laughter shared with Elladan and Elrohir, the wisdom imparted by Arwen, and the strength he drew from Aragorn. These memories were a balm to his wounded soul, reminders that he was not alone in his fight.
As the years passed, Legolas continued to forge his path. He became a symbol of hope and resilience, his actions inspiring others to stand against the darkness. His dedication to protecting Middle-earth was unwavering, and his commitment to redemption was relentless.
Though the gullt of his mother's fate never fully left him, Legolas learned to live with it, to channel it into a force for good. He understood that forgiveness, both of himself and from others, was a journey, not a destination. With each battle fought and each life saved, he moved closer to finding peace within himself.
Legolas's story was one of transformation- from a grief-stricken prince to a warrior of unparalleled skill and bravery. His journey was far from over, but he faced the future with a renewed sense of purpose. He was no longer the prince bound by the expectations of his heritage but a warrior dedicated to protecting the realms of Middle-earth.
In his heart, Legolas knew that he might never fully atone for the past, but he had found a way to honor his mother's memory and make a difference in the world. He had become a beacon of hope, a defender against the encroaching darkness, and in that, he found a measure of redemption.
Once more, Legolas rode back home, the wind whipping through his hair as his horse sped through the familiar paths of Mirkwood. News had reached him that Aragorn had brought Gollum to his father's halls, and with it, the ever-growing shadow of darkness. He felt a deep worry for his father, Thranduil, and the state of their woodland realm. He knew he could not stay away this time; too much was at stake. He was no longer the prince that everyone wanted him to be. It had been many centuries since he had thought of himself that way.
Though the Woodland Realm was still his home, the place of his birth and childhood among the ancient trees, those trees were now shrouded in darkness. He could no longer hear the song of their leaves as his father had taught him, nor listen to the call of nature. Mirkwood was dying day by day, and until the darkness was vanquished, there could be no hope.
But something had changed in his absence. The halls of his father, once solitary and secluded, were now bustling with renewed alliances. Thranduil had forged connections with dwarves, humans, and even the scattered elven villages lost in the depths of Mirkwood's shadow. Thranduil rode out frequently, his presence a testament to his enduring strength and leadership. Though he remained the Elvenking of stone and wood-cold, prideful, and wise beyond the ken of humans, dwarves, and even many elves-his realm was more vibrant and alive than it had been in centuries.
As Legolas approached his father's halls, he saw signs of life and activity everywhere. Patrols rode out regularly, their vigilant eyes scanning the darkened forest for any signs of danger. The halls themselves were adorned with banners and decorations, the air buzzing with anticipation. A welcome celebration for the prince's return had been announced.
Legolas dismounted at the gates of his father's palace, greeted by familiar faces and the warm embrace of old friends. The sight of the once-dying halls now filled with life and hope brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. His heart swelled with pride for his father, who had managed to keep their sanctuary alive amidst the encroaching darkness.
Thranduil stood at the entrance, regal and imposing. His silver hair flowed freely, his eyes sharp and watchful. Despite the years and the burden of their struggles, he remained an unyielding pillar of strength. Legolas walked towards him, his steps heavy with the weight of his experiences and the memories of their past.
"Mae govannen, ion nin," (Welcome home, my son) Thranduil greeted, his voice as strong as the ancient trees of their realm.
Legolas bowed his head in respect, then embraced his father. "Maer na bar, Ada. Tirno hain athrad." (It is good to be home, Father. I see much has changed.)
Thranduil nodded, his eyes softening for a moment. "Ae, hain athrad. Ach i dür adhach ned anim. Boe anim i pëd." (Yes, much has changed. But the darkness still presses upon us. We have much to discuss.)
They entered the grand hall, where the celebration was in full swing. The elves of Mirkwood, along with their new allies, mingled and shared in the joy of the prince's return. The hall was filled with music, laughter, and the rich aroma of elven cuisine.
Legolas found himself the center of attention, greeted warmly by those he had known for centuries and those he was meeting for the first time. Despite the festive atmosphere, a shadow of concern lingered in his heart. He knew the celebration was a brief respite from the ongoing struggle against the darkness.
As the evening progressed, Thranduil led Legolas to a quieter corner of the hall. They sat at a small table, the noise of the celebration fading into the background.
"Aragorn tog i Gollum si," (Aragorn brought Gollum here) Thranduil began, his tone serious. "The creature carries the knowledge of the One Ring and its master. The darkness grows stronger, and we must be prepared."
Legolas nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I have seen the darkness spreading, Ada (Father). Mirkwood is suffering."
Thranduil's gaze was steady. "We strengthen our alliances, bolster our defenses, and prepare for the battles to come. Your return is a sign of hope for our people."
Legolas felt the weight of his father's words. He had always been a warrior, but now he needed to be a leader as well. "You know I no longer can be the prince you wished me to be. I choose to fight against the darkness, Father. You always have my support, as your son, but the prince you wished for is no longer here."
Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder, his gaze steady and filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "Naneth (Your mother) would be proud of the elf you have become, Legolas. Once, I wished our realm to have a prince, perhaps one who would find a partner and eventually see our family grow. As the King of the Woodland Realm, that wish remains, but as your father, I know that is no longer your path. And you know you have my support."
Legolas gazed at his father, trying not to show his grief. "Man ir i galad? Man hain, ae istol..." (Then why the celebration? Why all this, if you already know...)
Thranduil cut him off, his voice firm but gentle. Legolas, our grief, our pain-we both keep it hidden because it is ours. We are responsible for protecting those under our realm, and it is my responsibility now. If celebrating the return of the prince will bring some hope in these dark times, I will have it. Tonight, you will be greeted as the prince. Play along. Tomorrow, you can return to your world, Legolas, but tonight, it is not my son that I greet but the prince."
Legolas smiled, a mixture of sadness and determination in his eyes. He understood what his King asked of him and he nodded. Even if it was not a part for him any longer, if that was what his father needed from him, Legolas would obey. Deep down, whatever Thranduil asked, Legolas would obey. The guilt remained, that he was the reason they lost the Queen, that he was the one who killed his own mother.
The celebration continued, a brief but welcome distraction from the looming threat. Legolas mingled with the guests, his presence a beacon of hope and strength. He shared stories with the dwarves and humans, rekindled old friendships with the elves, and found solace in the unity that Thranduil had built.
Elven maidens, as they used to, surrounded him, eager to be close to the prince or simply to talk to him. The braver ones would ask him for a dance, and Legolas would politely decline. He knew how to dance, but he did not wish to spend his time surrounded by elven-maidens.
Before his mother's demise, he would flirt, mingle with elven maidens, dance, and talk about the adventures he sought. Now, those were haunting memories. He no longer found pleasure in playing the prince or entertaining any of the maidens.
Some were more bold than they should have been, perhaps due to their status as noble maidens, making it easier to approach the prince and even consider a union with him possible.
One such maiden was Nidhiel, the eldest daughter of Thranduil's adviser, Longon. Longon was a Sindar elf, one of Oropher's advisers, and after his demise, he had maintained his position in the court. Thranduil hardly ever agreed with him, but having Longon around was like having the voice of his father nearby. Thranduil did not mind having individuals in his court with differing opinions.
In fact, he liked it because it allowed him to see things from another perspective. It did not mean he would follow their suggestions, but he wished to have a few opinions that would be different. That was the same reason why he allowed Tauriel to return. Tauriel had a more rebellious nature, and with Legolas gone, she provided an opinion from his son's perspective.
Nidhiel was one of the noble maidens most elves wished to have a chance to bond with. She held high hopes and aspirations, always believing her place was among the highest ranks of elven society. Becoming the princess of the Woodland Realm was a position she had envisioned for herself. The Elvenqueen had always thought of her as a suitable match for Legolas.
Nidhiel was nothing like Legolas. She was clever and wise, knowledgeable about politics and diplomacy. She had the qualities to aid Legolas in becoming a great leader. While his mother would never force Legolas into a bond he did not want, she believed she could be the perfect match for his rebellious and warrior demeanor.
Truth be told, Legolas had noticed Nidhiel. She was an elegant elven maiden, confident, and undeniably beautiful. She seemed destined for an important role, but Legolas never thought anything more of her. They had barely spoken, and he certainly never considered her someone he would be interested in romantically.
As the evening progressed, Nidhiel found her opportunity to approach Legolas. She moved gracefully through the crowd, her confidence evident in every step. She finally reached him, a warm smile on her lips.
"Prince Legolas," she greeted, her voice smooth and melodic. "It is wonderful to see you back in the halls of your father. You bring a light that has been missing."
Legolas forced a polite smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of weariness and resolve. "Hannon le, Nidhiel. Maer sui nautha edhil lain ad." (Thank you, Nidhiel. It is good to see everyone again.)
Nidhiel stepped closer, her intentions clear. "Would you honor me with a dance? It has been too long since we have celebrated together."
Legolas shook his head gently. "I am afraid I must decline, Nidhiel. My heart is not in it tonight."
Nidhiel's smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. "You seem troubled, my prince. Perhaps I can offer some company, a friendly ear?"
Legolas appreciated the offer but felt uneasy. "I appreciate your kindness, but I prefer to spend the evening reflecting on more pressing matters."
Nidhiel's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she leaned in closer. "It is said that Tauriel, one of your closest allies, has taken quite an interest in the dwarves, particularly one named Kili. Some find it unbecoming for an elf to be so close to a dwarf. What are your thoughts on this, my prince?"
Legolas's expression hardened, the mention of Tauriel and her connection to Kili striking a nerve. "Tauriel is a warrior and a valued friend. Her choices are her own, and they do not diminish her worth or honor."
Nidhiel pressed on, sensing an opportunity to provoke. "But surely, a bond with a dwarf is not fitting for one of our kind. It could be seen as a betrayal of our people, don't you think?"
Legolas's patience wore thin, his voice cold and firm. "Tauriel's actions and her heart are not for you or anyone else to judge, Nidhiel. She has proven her loyalty and bravery countless times. I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of her."
Nidhiel's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the intensity of Legolas's response. "I meant no offense, my prince. I merely wished to discuss the matter."
Legolas took a step back, his expression resolute. "This discussion is over, Nidhiel. Enjoy the festivities."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Nidhiel standing there, a mix of frustration and disappointment on her face. She had hoped to gain his favor, but her attempt had only widened the gap between them.
As the night wore on, Legolas stood on a balcony overlooking the starlit forest. The familiar scents of Mirkwood filled the air, but they brought little comfort. The ancient trees, their leaves whispering secrets, seemed to echo his restless thoughts. Though he had returned to his father's halls, his mind was already contemplating his next departure. The idea of resuming his patrols was far more appealing than dealing with the nobles and royalty, especially those like Nidhiel. Acting like the prince was a burden he could no longer bear.
Legolas found it comical and ironic. Which prince? The one who led his mother to her demise, or the one who, through his actions, had caused her death? Despite knowing that Thranduil never blamed him for what happened to his mother, the gullt weighed heavily on him. As the King, Thranduil could have punished him or at least ignored him. Instead, he welcomed Legolas with open arms and celebration, a gesture that only deepened Legolas's wounds.
Surely, Legolas had accomplished a lot. Living with his grief and guilt, he still managed to stand tall, prideful, and royal. It was something only the son of Thranduil could achieve. He found a way to deal with his grief and blame by dedicating himself to fighting the darkness and the creatures that took so many lives.
He wished those responsible for his mother's fate were still alive, so he could exact his vengeance. But too many centuries had passed. There was no single foe he could focus on. Sauron was the main evil, but Legolas knew he would never face him directly. He lacked the power and wisdom to confront Sauron himself. Instead, he ensured that he would eliminate as many of Sauron's forces as possible.
There was one name Thranduil had never spoken aloud: Alakar, the sorcerer who sought to corrupt Mirkwood from within, using his dark powers to twist minds and bend wills. Though his name was not mentioned openly, Thranduil knew well that Alakar had played a role in the tragic fate of Legolas's mother. Yet, he was cautious in revealing this to his son, though Legolas already sensed the truth.
In his nightmares, Legolas had seen it all the torment his mother endured, the shadow of Alakar's influence that twisted her soul. Yet, he had always dismissed these dreams as mere figments of his haunted mind, not memories of what truly happened. It was this uncertainty that kept him from seeking answers about Alakar, and perhaps, deep down, It was also fear fear of facing the reality of what he might discover.
For at the end of it all, it was Legolas who believed he had been the cause of her capture, and it was his own arrow that had taken her life. If there was vengeance to be sought, it should first lle with himself.
In Mirkwood, Legolas's capabilities were well-known. The forces of Sauron were great, but Legolas and his group inflicted significant losses. Even when he was gone, Tauriel and the rest ensured that their presence was felt. Sauron was aware of this. His forces around Mirkwood were always on special missions to find Thranduil's son. And if they succeeded, they were to bring him to Sauron.